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Awkwardness: Quotations from Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations

Awkward, embarrassed, stiff, without the skill Of moving gracefully or standing still, One leg, as if suspicious of his brother, Desirous seems to run away from t'other.— CHURCHILL — Rosciad. L. 438.

What's a fine person, or a beauteous face, Unless deportment gives them decent grace? Blessed with all other requisites to please, Some want the striking elegance of ease; The curious eye their awkward movement tires: They seem like puppets led about by wires.— CHURCHILL — Rosciad. L. 741.

He smiles, and sleeps!-sleep on And smile, thou little, young inheritor Of a world scarce less young: sleep on and smile! Thine are the hours and days when both are cheering And innocent! S.— BYRON — Cain. Act III. Sc. 1. L. 24.

How lovely he appears! his little cheeks In their pure incarnation, vying with The rose leaves strewn beneath them. And his lips, too, How beautifully parted! No; you shall not Kiss him; at least not now; he will wake soon- His hour of midday rest is nearly over.— BYRON — Cain. Act III. Sc. 1. L. 14.

Look! how he laughs and stretches out his arms, And opens wide his blue eyes upon thine, To hail his father; while his little form Flutters as winged with joy. Talk not of pain! The childless cherubs well might envy thee The pleasures of a parent.— BYRON — Cain. Act III. Sc. 1. L. 171.

Lo! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps; Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps; She, while the lovely baby unconscious lies, Smiles on her slumbering child with pensive eyes.— CAMPBELL — Pleasures of Hope. Pt. I. L. 225.

When you fold your hands, Baby Louise! Your hands like a fairy's, so tiny and fair, With a pretty, innocent, saintlike air, Are you trying to think of some angel-taught prayer You learned above, Baby Louise? C.— MARGARET EYTINGE — Baby Louise.

Baloo, baloo, my wee, wee thing.— RICHARD GALL — Cradle Song.

What is the little one thinking about? Very wonderful things, no doubt; Unwritten history! Unfathomed mystery! Yet he laughs and cries, and eats and drinks, And chuckles and crows, and nods and winks, As if his head were as full of kinks And curious riddles as any sphinx!— J. G. HOLLAND — Bitter-Sweet.

First Movement. L. 6. When the baby died, On every side Rose stranger's voices, hard and harsh and loud. The baby was not wrapped in any shroud. The mother made no sound. Her head was bowed That men's eyes might not see Her misery.— HELEN HUNT — When the Baby Died.

Sweet is the infant's waking smile, And sweet the old man's rest- But middle age by no fond wile, No soothing calm is blest.— KEBLE — The Christian Year. St. Philip and St. James. St. 3.

Suck, baby! suck! mother's love grows by giving: Drain the sweet founts that only thrive by wasting! Black manhood comes when riotous guilty living Hands thee the cup that shall be death in tasting.— CHARLES LAMB — The Gypsy's Malison.

Sonnet in Letter to Mrs. Procter, Jan. 29, 1829.